It's Stopped Bleeding Now
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Set after The Dark Knight. An injured Joker finds out that Bruce Wayne is the Batman and pays him a visit. Slash. UPDATED March 6th 2013.
1. Chapter 1

"Hi-ii.."

Bruce stared at the the Joker on his doorstep in disbelief.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Now that's not very nice, _Batman_," He purred the vigilante's name, eyes gleaming with amusement at his reaction. "You don't greet all your visitors like that, do you?"

Bruce yanked the Joker off his feet by his jacket lapels and into the house, banged the door shut and slammed the Joker up against it. He may not be as capable as when he was the Batman, so the Joker may stand a pretty good chance, but so far he wasn't putting up a fight in the slightest.

"Oh yeah, that's it, now I know for definite you're the Batman, you big brute of a man, you," he giggled. "Nice to see you can still be yourself without the mask." The Joker rested his hands on Bruce's forearms, relaxed as ever.

Bruce ignored that last remark.

"How did you find me?"

"Does it really matter? I'm here now, so why don't we - "

He was cut off by Bruce pulling him from the door and slamming him twice as hard into the wall.

The Joker laughed shrilly, a little deliriously. "That's the stuff. I'll say it again, you just _ne-ver_disappoint." He looked at Bruce calmly, thoroughly enjoying the attention he was being paid despite the pain. "So what now, huh? You gonna kill me? You could, y'know. No-one'd ever know. Hell, you might have to. You've nothing to threaten me with, after all, as we discovered, and we can't have you exposed to Gotham, now can we? Think of all the chaos _that_ would spark." He said, dark eyes gleaming.

Bruce glared back at him, seeing that gleam in his eyes and hating it, but released him and stepped back.

The Joker dropped ungracefully into a heap, banging his head as he went down. He made a small noise of discomfort and began to rub at his head, and then made an effort to get to his feet, just as the sharp pain below his ribs returned and overwhelmed him. He winced and then, as it subsided, leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out.

Bruce watched this without comment, waiting for him to speak again, only to his annoyance the Joker blatantly ignored him, getting comfortable against the wall and looking around curiously.

"Well?" Bruce said impatiently, after several moments of this. "What do you want? Have you come to blackmail me?"

The Joker looked at him then, half amused, half put out. "_Blackmail_ you? I'm not like that." He shook his head ruefully, as if hurt. "You're always so _negative_, Batman, so doom and gloom. Why so serious?"

Bruce ignored how that last sentence chilled him a little, putting it down to his nerves. "Just tell me what you want."

"Nothing!" The Joker insisted, holding his hands up. "I've no intention of exposing you, really. I give you my word." He paused to see how this went down, half expecting another slam into the wall, or maybe a kick in the ribs. Bruce was frowning. If there was one thing he knew about the Joker it was that he tended to keep his word.

The Joker smiled up at him cheerfully. "You look a little puzzled. Need a few moments to reflect, maybe? I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh yes you are," He growled, and stepped up to him. "Get up."

The Joker tried, grimacing, and then gave himself a few seconds to recover before trying again.

"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked him roughly.

"Yeah. You just slammed me into the wall."

"I've done worse than that. What's wrong with you?"

"_No-thing_," He sang. "Nothing at all. Just.. gi'me a minute." He rested his head on the wall again.

"Why have you come?"

The Joker considered a moment before replying. "Well, just to say hi, really, let you know I know. See how you'd react."

"Well, now you've done that, will you leave?"

The Joker laughed. "Such a good host," He said mockingly. "You know, when I first found out this was you, I had my doubts. I didn't think the Batman was someone - "

Bruce shot his hands round the Joker's throat, kneeling over his legs. He was in no meed to hear this, suit or no suit.

"Wow, look at you go," He choked out. "You just can't help yourself, can you? I bet you've missed this, I bet its been building up and up inside, am I right? Why don't you go get your suit on so we can have some _real_ fun - "

He hit him then, backhand, hard. He knew he was going too far; the Joker hadn't really done anything this time, hadn't even broke in, but he couldn't help himself.

The Joker met his eyes again; their intensity was unsettling. As his temper faded, he became more aware of his current position; his knees on either side of the Joker's thighs, a hand on his throat, no longer squeezing.

Bruce immediately broke the eye contact and backed off, sure that the Joker knew what he had been thinking. The bastard always knew what _everyone_ was thinking. He quickly resumed talking before the Joker could. "You really came just out of curiosity? What for? I'm not the Batman, not now."

"Not now?" He repeated. "You make it sound as though they were two different people."

"They are, in a way. But that's not what I meant. There's no Batman now."

"They don't seem all that different to me." The Joker remarked, ignoring his last comment. "Maybe I always bring out the Batman in you." He eyed him. He didn't know what was disturbing the Batman so badly, but he had an inkling it was the idea of losing control. He was on the brink of it, and it scared him. "So insecure! You're feeling so vulnerable right now, aren't you? There's no need to, though. You don't need to be the Batman to be who you really are. I mean, take you and me right now; you've been throwing me around easily enough, haven't you?"

"It's my identity I'm concerned about."

"I told you, it's safe with me. Wild horses won't drag it out of me, I promise."

"What reason have I got to trust you?"

He smiled sweetly and seemed to read his mind. "When have I ever broken my word?"

"When have you ever _given_ it?"

"Loads of times! To you, to the mob, to whoever I'm..negotiating with."

"Manipulating, you mean."

"Why do you keep talking like one of them? There's not even anyone watching us this time." He paused. "If my word's not enough for you, think of it like this; if you were exposed to Gotham, that'd be it, the end. Where's the fun in that? I don't wanna lose you, see?"

He did. The Joker didn't want to break his favorite toy, of course.

He continued. "It's not that big a deal. I don't think any less of you, and it doesn't really change anything."

"I don't give a damn what you think of me." He said hotly.

The Joker looked at him for a moment and Bruce just looked back, unperturbed. The Joker didn't know him. He didn't know what he was talking about.

"Why do you think of it as a double life?" The Joker asked suddenly.

"I never said that."

"But you do, don't you?"

He didn't know why he answered him. Looking back, he didn't know why he conversed with the Joker at all, when he clearly should have been calling the police. "Because it's better than being like you, insane around the clock." He regretted that the instant it left his mouth.

The Joker sat up straight, his eyes gleaming. "And what do you mean by _that_, I wonder? That at least half of you's just like me?"

"I don't have time for this. I want you to leave, now." He snarled back.

"Of course you do. You always do, once our chats start to border on something uncomfortable, y'know like, the truth. And anyway, you have all the time in the world nowadays. Don't you?"

"Get out."

To his relief the Joker actually got up, or, at least, tried to. He staggered a few steps, Bruce catching him without thinking about it. The Joker's coat had come undone as he fell, exposing the bloody mess through his torn shirt.

"Jesus." He said, seeing it.

The Joker's knees buckled. He tried to reply, or laugh, at least, but could only cough up blood. "All over your nice carpet, sorry about that," He warbled, his head spinning. He felt himself being dragged further into the house.

"You need to go to hospital."

"Don't. It's stopped bleeding now. I'm a fast healer."

Bruce laid him on the sofa. "You can barely move. I can't just dump you outside the door."

"You could always just dump me off the roof," He suggested. "Do the world a favor and keep your identity safe. Two birds."

"Don't tempt me," He said dryly. "I don't kill." He left him.

The Joker sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for his pulse to slow down. He was still hurting, but not as badly. His lightheadedness had subsides a little too, but was he was still kind of faint, and too hot, much too hot. He jumped when he felt Bruce put something on his wounds. He hadn't heard him come back. "It will hurt now," He protested, squirming.

"Well you should've thought of that," He snapped back. "What happened, where you stabbed?"

"Yep," he said simply, tensing in his discomfort.

"Then why did you come here? Did you really expect me to help you?"

"I was _fine_ when I came here," He shot back. "A little weak on my feet, maybe, but fine. It was only when you got rough with me that I got like this." He gestured at himself.

"Well, what did you expect?"

The Joker gave a small hiss of pain, flinching. Bruce saw, and went on with more care, forcing himself calm. He got to his feet. "You could have at least bandaged yourself." He told him disdainfully.

"Didn't have any," the Joker replied dully, his eyes wandering vaguely along the ceiling.

Exasperated, Bruce turned and went to get some, returning to find the Joker as he'd left him, his eyes still tracing patterns in the ceiling, his features settled into a kind of blank detachment. Bruce stepped up to him, wondering just how much blood he had actually lost, but then the Joker struggled to sit up and took the bandages from him.

"Thanks. This is all very courteous of you, Bruce, I'm impressed." And so saying he lifted his shirt and began wrapping up the wounds, struggling but evidently not wanting help.

"Don't call me that."

"Batman then, whatever." His strength was draining with his efforts, and by the time he'd secured the bandages his dizziness was back, and he lay down again weakly.

Bruce felt his forehead. "You're burning up. I think I'll take you to a hospital."

"Aw, no, don't do that.." He dragged out slowly, his words blurred and thick. "Come on, be a sport. I take..the trouble of...coming all the way here..to see you...and even promise...not to expose you...and to thank me you- "

"-try to save your life, seeing as you've so little regard for it yourself." He finished, pulling the Joker's arms, which were fidgeting with the bandages, down to his sides. "Take it easy." He remained restless for another minute or so, but eventually yielded and lay still.

Bruce observed him from a chair he'd pulled up, elbows resting on his legs, hands dangling between them.

"You're very quiet." The Joker said, after a bit. "What are you thinking?"

He eyed the Joker warily. "I'm thinking what the hell am I going to do with you."

"No hospital, please and thank you. You always have your roof, and the nice big drop next to it."

"I wouldn't patch you up just to throw you off a roof." He replied dryly.

This struck the Joker as highly amusing, and he started giggling, only to be stopped short by the pain it brought on.

"No, I know, I know." He drawled. "Yooou, don't want blood on your hands. That's your one rule, isn't it? If you can help it, never let anyone die. Now that may not be it word for word but that's the gist of it, right?"

"Stop talking, you'll make yourself worse."

"You mean I'm annoying you."

"That too, so shut up. I'm trying to think."

For once the Joker actually did shut up, and by the time Bruce spoke again he was almost asleep. "All right. No hospital."

"Now you're talkin'."

"You can stay here tonight."

The Joker laughed, then grimaced. That sharp pain again. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was." He growled. "If you're no better by morning I'm taking you to a hospital. Either way I want you gone."

And with that he left him.

The Joker blinked, raising his head slightly to see if he was actually going. That's it? He's just going to leave him? Free to steal, murder, maybe burn the house down? The pain in his abdomen contradicted him, making him wince again. Maybe not. He eased himself about until he was lying on his side, then sighed and shut his eyes.

Bruce listened from outside the door, his hand still on the knob. Was he really going to just leave him there? There wasn't much he could do in his condition, but still, it was taking a chance.

_Then call someone_, a little voice niggled. _Do it now, while his guard's down_. He pushed the thought away. He wouldn't be calling anybody, for reasons he didn't particularly want to get into.

He should have really put him in another room, a guest room maybe, so he could lock him in. There were all different doors in the room he was in now. He couldn't really lock him in though, in case there was a fire, or something. Besides, it wouldn't really be wise to move him any more than he had to, with all the blood he'd lost.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that he would go to bed but set his alarm for about three in the morning, and get up and check the manor was still standing.

Bruce slapped the alarm at 3am and groaned, coming to groggily. For a moment he stared at the seldom used alarm clock, wondering what in the hell had it done _that_ for, and then remembering. He got to his feet and left his room, cautiously approaching the door to where he'd left the Joker. He fumbled for the light and saw the Joker on the sofa, curled up with his hair in his face. Bruce heaved a sigh of relief. The Joker clearly hadn't moved a muscle all night. He was exhausted, after all. He was about to turn off the light, but he felt a sudden compulsion to go over to him. He couldn't see if he was breathing from here.

He berated himself for his recklessness as he crossed the room to the Joker's side, but sighed in relief, regardless, when he could make out the rise and fall of his breathing. He placed a hand on his shoulder to feel it, to be sure. The Joker had been right about one thing; he did avoid death when he could.

He brushed back the green hair hair and felt his forehead, and cursed himself. He was still quite feverish, warm but shivering ever so slightly. He shouldn't have left him without a blanket or something. Especially not in a room as large as this. He didn't particularly want to wrap him up when he was asleep though. The Joker would taunt him endlessly in the morning for his pains.

Bruce brushed the rest of the hair off his face, his fingers lingering on his hair for perhaps longer than they should have, and he drew back, bit his lip.

He decided to bring him a blanket anyway. More compassion than he deserved, more than Bruce thought he'd be able to give. It had been a strange evening. Bruce covered him, holding his breath, and then, he didn't know why, felt his forehead again before he left, fingers brushing his hair again. He then put the heating on and returned to bed.

He felt wide awake as he lay there, on his back, going over the events of tonight, but was asleep within half an hour.

The Joker woke up early, the light from dawn shining in from the window and disturbing him. He groaned a little and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bury away from it. The first thing he became aware of was that he was warm, much warmer than when he'd gone to sleep. He came to groggily, saw the blanket and was touched. More than anything he wanted to pull it back over him and go back to sleep. Despite the pain from last night, and what was still there this morning, it was the best sleep he'd had in months. He couldn't stay though. He was lucky to have woken up this early; he had to stay up if he wanted to get out before the Batman called the funny farm.

Well, no, he'd call the hospital, but when they were done with him they weren't likely to send him on his merry way, now were they? "No." He muttered, and eased himself off the couch. "Ow-ww.." He said as quietly as he could. The house was so silent and somehow serious. His 'ows' sounded almost comical in its grave depth.

He examined himself, grimacing. He wasn't sure if Bruce would consider this "no better" but certainly wasn't sticking around to find out. He looked around, spotted a notepad and pen. Perfect. He tore off a page and wrote, "Thanks a lot!" He paused, thinking. What else? His mind had gone blank. He just wanted to get out of here and sort these damn wounds out. He folded the blanket and left the note on top of it, crept quietly out the door. Bruce, a few rooms away, rolled over in his sleep, still dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up to find the Joker gone had left Bruce with mixed feelings of loss and relief. He tried to mask them, however, as Alfred arrived home, cheerful as ever, just after he finished scrubbing the last of the Joker's blood from the carpet.

When they finished catching up, Bruce decided, after some contemplation, to tell Alfred what had happened. He lived here, after all, and therefore had a right to know. This he told Alfred after retelling what had happened.

"If you want to move out, I understand." Bruce finished.

"But Master Wayne, oughtn't _you_ be the one thinking about moving out?" He answered mildly. "Or at the very least installing better security?"

Bruce smiled grimly. "He said he wouldn't do anything." He said, as if that settled it. "I like it here. If I moved, it'd only be a matter of time before he finds me again. I- "

He paused. _Did_ he trust the Joker, to some extent? Really? "I know him." Bruce corrected. "I know him better than most, anyway. He said he wasn't going to do anything and I believe he meant it. And anyway, he didn't break in; he knocked."

"With respect, Master Wayne, didn't you once say that one of the most dangerous aspects concerning the Joker was his unpredictability?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," He admitted. "But I'm going with my gut on this one, Alfred."

Alfred nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you did save his life, let's hope he keeps that in mind. And you could have easily turned him out or called the police, which I was about to ask; why the bloody hell didn't you?"

"Well, for one thing they'd ask the Joker why he was here, and what would he tell them?"

"Ah, yes, I see your point." They stayed silent for a few moments, reflecting.

Bruce resumed after a moment, "So if you do wanna leave I understand."

Alfred gave a little chuckle. "I've stuck with you through worse than this, Master Wayne. Besides, if you feel you can take the chance there's no reason why I shouldn't."

Bruce smiled, relieved.

"Did you tell him?"

Bruce looked up. "Tell who what?"

Alfred paused delicately, hunting for tact. "The Joker that, well, what's happened could very well be the end of the Batman."

"No." He said shortly. "He already knows that. But I don't think it is, Alfred. I really don't."

Despite this, Bruce knew it would be best for the Batman to lay low for a while. For the next few weeks at least, he would remain as he was, and only be the Batman if he really, really had to. Gotham wasn't completely helpless, after all. It had the police, the S.W.A.T team, plenty of other capable forces.

So when the Joker began his bank robberies again, as much as it pained him to admit it, the Batman did nothing. He told himself he wasn't needed; this sort of thing happened everywhere all the time, and most cities coped without vigilantes. For the Joker, these were only very mild acts of mayhem, but Bruce reckoned he was just getting started. That was what made him uneasy.

Bruce sat at the window of his penthouse, scanning the city's lights. "Alfred, am I doing the right thing?" he murmured.

Alfred set his tray down with a sigh. "To be honest, Master Wayne, I don't think there is a right thing in this situation. You're doing your best, and that's all Bruce Wayne _and_ the Batman can do."

"Am I?" He stood up restlessly, frustrated. "I'm doing nothing. No-one's been seriously hurt so far, but what if this is some stunt the Joker's pulling for my attention? If it doesn't work he'll do something much worse. I can't have more people die because of me."

"Well, I don't see why the Joker would attempt to lure you out when he could just knock on the door." Alfred dismissed.

"The Batman, not me. There's a difference." He frowned, remembering how the Joker had asked him why he thought of it as a double life. _Because it is,_he thought, a little angrily. _Because you were right; I do try to be like one of them, because I do know what happens when the chips are down, because I can't be a freak like you but I can't be a robot like them, or whatever they are, I don't even know. Because it is. Because it just_is.

The Joker's knock on the door came only a few days later, around midnight. Bruce was still up, had had another rather restless evening. He'd answered the door quickly, already half-sure who it was. Who else would turn up without warning in the middle of the night?

"You haven't been out to play." The Joker said as soon as he got the door open. His eyes had a bright, mischievous look.

Bruce tried to shut the door, but the Joker stopped it easily with his foot.

"You know how things are. Gotham considers me as bad as you now."

"Oh, don't worry about it. They can afford to turn their backs on you when they think they're safe, when they think things are back to the way they were, but they'll want you back, you'll see. As long as there's a me, there's a you. Gotham'll need you again."

Bruce hoped that the relief he felt somewhere deep inside him wasn't showing. The Joker was only voicing aloud what he had been thinking himself, but it was reassuring to hear him say it, somehow. He was still the Batman. All of a sudden the maddening restlessness left him, and he knew that when the Joker left he'd have no problem getting to sleep.

"Not going to ask me in?" The Joker's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"No."

"Fair enough. I imagine your hospitality was stretched enough last time. Thanks for all that, by the way."

What popped into Bruce's head then also popped out of his mouth. "Who stabbed you?"

"I don't know!" He said, and laughed. "They had a clown mask on. _My_clown mask, more's the pity. I was gonna take it back afterwards, but I didn't bother."

"Afterwards?"

"There was a little struggle. I won. I guess all our little fistfights really pay off, huh?"

This could go on all night. Bruce cut to it. "Why are you here?"

The Joker laughed. "See if you're still alive. You've missed a lot of fun. How long do you plan to hide away for?"

"I'm not hiding." He replied testily. "Will you go now?"

"Why, what're you doing?"

"Just go, will you? I can't have you here."

The Joker grinned, unoffended. "Fine." He took his foot off the door. "I'll see you in a few days." That got Bruce's attention, as he knew it would.

"Why, what're you going to do?"

"Nothing that big," He said vaguely, backing off a few steps in case Bruce went for him. "Just a little something to remind you who you are. I won't kill anybody." He added hastily, as if that made it alright.

"I don't w- "

"I bet you do, though. You haven't had stuff to do in ages, you must be going out of your mind."

Bruce could feel his irritation rising, mostly because the Joker was right. "I have a life outside of you, y'know."

That amused the Joker a great deal, and he only shut up when Bruce started to shut the door. "Ok, ok, but you do still want to be the Batman, admit that at least." He paused. "Y'know, in a way, you should be thanking me. I mean, if you didn't have me where would you go from here? How would you get back in Gotham's good books?"

"I don't need Gotham's approval."

"No, I guess you don't, but it'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

Bruce didn't reply.

The Joker's visit did little to upset Bruce Wayne's routine; he continued to spend his days convincing himself that no, he was not impatient to resume his enmity with the Joker, definitely not anticipating putting the suit back on and.. being himself again? No. Doing what he had to do.

No, he was perfectly happy the way he was, with his work, his money, attending parties and going on date after date, always new faces (he seldom went with the same girl more than once and, just recently, rarely even slept with them. The dates filled up just the amount of time he wanted to kill, so sex afterwards would be unnecessary, pointless, the orgasms nothing he couldn't get by his own hand), anything, _anything_ to keep convincing himself that he did not need to be the Batman, that he did _not_ do it for himself.

That was not it was about. Not at first, anyway. He wanted to help Gotham, be more a part of it than ever, to inspire others, to have no limits. It had all changed now. He would always have his excuses of justice, of making things better, but at the end of the day he simply loved the _thrill _of being Batman, and how much more satisfying it was than his other life.

Of course, it hadn't really changed; it had been like that all along, and he was simply more aware of it now.

He had once had a dream that the citizens of Gotham had found out who he was, had berated him for all he'd done, and the part he remembered most clearly was a man sneering at him, "You don't really care about Gotham, you just do it for the rush. You get off on it."

He _did_ care about Gotham, he knew that much, but hadn't the man been right to some degree about the other things?

He wasn't a hero. He'd never be a hero, because he mostly did what he did for his own pleasure. He was the Batman because it was who he was. It suited him just right. He needed it just as much as Gotham did, if not more.

He hadn't thought, hadn't let himself think, that he needed the Batman, because he knew if that was true it almost meant he needed the Joker too. But then, if he acknowledged it to himself, accepted it, it would give the Joker no power over him. Gazing out at the town, he thought about the Joker.

True to his word, the Joker had the people wanting the Batman back in less than a week. Well, strictly speaking, one of them; Gordon. It was an emergency, he said; there was little time, and the people didn't need know. He wasn't in it for the glory, anyway. The Joker, fortunately, hadn't created too tragic an emergency. Tricking half the mob into robbing their own bosses, keeping the money, thus causing the building the money was kept in to start the timers of the bombs. Something along those lines. He felt out of touch. He never had been a man for taking time off. At least, he thought, the building had been evacuated. The Joker was probably hanging around, waiting for him.

The Joker was waiting for the Batman, on the roof where he could see everything. He had some.._friends_on the way, with their _borrowed_helicopter, to pick up him and the money. He had been on the roof for almost half an hour now, and was getting bored. He didn't expect the robbery to draw the Batman out, it hadn't worked before, but maybe a bomb would. Maybe. After all, how could he resist checking that everybody had got out safe and sound? The Joker laughed a little, and kicked at some money halfheartedly, indifferently. He was considering throwing the money to the citizens below. He didn't want it, after all. He'd probably just buy more copies of his suit and make up and burn what was left.

He imagined the headlines, _MADMAN GIVES CITIZENS MOB'S MONEY,_or _VILLAIN'S PENANCE?_

He smiled at that one. Some things were just too funn-

The Batman took the Joker by surprise, coming up behind him and knocking him off his feet.

"OW. What-?" He looked up. "Oh, well _finally_. Still, better late than never, huh?"

"There's a bomb inside. One of the mob just activated it."

The Joker laughed. "They think of everything, don't they? Don't they just make you laugh though, blowing up a building when no-one's even in it?"

"We're _on_ it though!"

The Joker laughed and threw money at him. He started walking backwards away from the Batman.

"This isn't actually what I had in mind when I said I'd see you in a few days, but oh well, you're here now, I won't have to bother with it. What made you show up?"

"People have been getting killed."

"Have they? _I_ haven't been killing them."

"No, but your men have. I couldn't just do nothing."

"Of course you couldn't." He agreed. "Y'know what I've learned about these mob guys? They think they're different. You wouldn't believe it, but most of them think they're a better class of human and all -"

"Watch where you're going." Batman said irritably. He was backing towards the edge.

The Joker took no notice. "- they are is everybody's guilty pleasures, everybody's true colors. Now that'd be okay if that was what they were going for, but it's not. Y'see _these_ guys, these _criminals_, they-"

"Watch where you're going!"

The Joker stood still and laughed at him, about two steps from walking on air. "Cool your jets, I'm fine. Nice of you, though. Didn't know you cared. Missed me that much?"

"Get away from the edge."

The Joker had clearly got bored of discussing mob philosophy. "I'll take that as a yes. I can sympathize, I've been pretty bored myself. I mean, just the other week I- "

"FREEZE!"

They both jumped. They both stared incredulously at the _one_ cop.

"They sent you here all on your own?" said the Joker, with what sounded like genuine concern. "What, did you all draw straws or something?"

"I said freeze!"

"I'm not moving!"

"Officer," Batman interrupted. "I can handle this."

"Yeah, he actually does think he can, so let's encourage him. If you'll just- "

"You're both under arrest."

The Joker laughed delightedly. "Really? But what if I go one way and he goes another?"

The cop glared daggers at the Joker. "I have back up on the way."

"Yeah, and I- "

"Shut up." The cop came forward so he was opposite the Joker, both of them right by the edge.

The Joker looked at Batman in a bored way. He was tired of being interrupted. He may kill and steal and burn but at least he let people finish what they were damn well saying.

Batman caught the look in the Joker's eye and saw he didn't have much patience for the man.

"Look Officer, I- " He was interrupted by a large sound from inside the building, and immediately the ground beneath them began to tremble.

"What's the hell's that?" cried the cop.

"The first of the bombs." said Batman. "We have to- "

The ground beneath their feet shook violently, and suddenly parts of the roof began to crack. The edge broke away, leaving the Joker and the cop no time to scramble for safety.

Batman had been standing at more or less the same distance between the two of them. It had happened so fast, it couldn't be classed as a decision made by his conscious, rational thoughts but by his reflexes, his instincts.

He dived forward and caught the Joker's hand just in time, landing awkwardly on his stomach, winding himself. The pain momentarily weakened him. If it weren't for that, he could have easily hauled the Joker up with one hand. The cop, needless to say, fell to his death. Batman held on to the Joker's hand grimly, who was fortunately quite light.

The Joker gripped the Batman's wrist with his free hand, laughing. The Batman had let someone die to save him. The Batman had _broken his one rule_ for him. He felt so _alive_. The drop below him meant nothing.

"Is it just me or is this a little familiar?" He laughed some more, feeling himself start to slip, not caring.

Batman grabbed at the Joker with his other hand, missed. Continuing to behave by his instincts with no interference from thoughts, the Batman threw himself after the Joker, managed to smash them both through the window of a neighboring building. Still hanging on to the Joker, Batman hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thud, where they remained for several moments, stunned but mostly unhurt.

The Batman came to to find the Joker still half leaning on him. He felt the warmth of his body and his hair touching his neck and didn't move.

The Joker raised his head slightly, dazed, going over what had just happened in his head. The Batman had just dived after him like with his precious Rachel. Maybe he had just died and imagined it?

He slid off the Batman carefully, and observed the building they'd just fallen from critically.

"Not much of a bomb, was it?" The Joker said in a conversational tone. "I thought those guys would prefer more of a big bang."

"Maybe they couldn't afford one." Batman said dryly, still not quite letting his brain filter what should be said and done and what shouldn't.

The Joker laughed and got to his feet, grabbing the Batman's hands and pulling him up with him. Batman yanked his hands free with a little more force than necessary. In the distance, approaching sirens could be heard.

"Well, thanks a lot. I think I'll just go.." The Joker backed off. He was going to leave him with a taunt of how he let someone die again, or how he was proving his point on how similar they were, but he changed his mind. There would be other times.

Batman made no attempt to stop him. Another mistake, but he didn't care. The damage was done. _Just go_ he thought silently. _You can tease me about the cop some other time. Just_go_._

To his relief the Joker did go, without another word. Batman closed his eyes briefly, still feeling out of it. The brush with death, the fear, the relief, the coppery taste of panic on his tongue, the guilt and, despite everything, the fucking thrill of it all.

He was the Batman again, and he had the Joker to both thank and loathe for it.

He then felt a herd of more frightening thoughts crowd him, and pushed them back for later. The sirens were getting louder; like a villain himself, it was time to go.

Alfred listened to the younger man explain what had happened. "It was very fast." He said kindly. "You didn't have time to think."

"But doesn't that make it worse? If I had to choose between him and a, a decent citizen, deep down I'd want to save him? What does that say about me?"

Alfred regarded Bruce thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose, in a way, you are familiar with him, sir."

Bruce frowned, thinking about it. Alfred continued.

"You're a good man, sir. You're bright enough and experienced enough to understand that the Joker has doubtless suffered as much pain as he's caused. Also, without the Joker, without something to fear, Gotham doesn't exactly flourish, as we've learned. And without you, well, let's not even go there."

He looked at Bruce closely. "Do you see what I'm saying? Gotham may need you both, for better or worse. You knew this without having to think about it."

Alfred left Bruce alone. On his way out he said, "Don't torture yourself, Master Wayne. What's done is done."

Bruce leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, and Alfred knew there was nothing more he could say. He sighed to himself.

"Goodnight, Master Wayne."

Bruce would have been happy to leave it at that, but unfortunately his body didn't agree. He awoke that night in the middle of a disturbing dream with an erection. He breathed in shakily, remnants of the dream still echoing in his head, _You just couldn't let me go, could you?_ He groaned, stiff and sweating, his heart racing.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_ An interior voice demanded.

_Just get it out of your system,_ another one argued. _It doesn't mean anything._

_I'm getting as crazy as he is,_ he thought grimly.

But still, his instinct took over.

He lay back down and slid his hand between his legs. He tried not to fantasize, tried helplessly to concentrate only on the sensations of his hand, but of course images flickered and framed behind his lids. The fantasy was too sweet to resist, and he gave himself up to it completely. Upon dropping the last of his self-restraint, he thought about how it felt to pin the Joker against a wall, the clash of their bodies when they fought.

He imagined how the Joker's tongue would feel against his own, how he could brush his thumb over those terrible scars, the feel of his hair and the wonderful heat between their bodies.

Bruce came into one hand, shoving the other against his mouth to stifle a moan.

_God, _he thought, getting over it. It was over an hour before he got back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

ch3

"May I ask, Master Wayne?" Alfred began tentatively, as he bandaged the younger man's hand. "If everything is all right? You seem a little..distracted, as of late."

"Not really," Bruce hedged.

"_Not really_," He repeated skeptically. "I know what that means with you. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing Alfred, really. I just..I don't know. I haven't been sleeping well." He said truthfully. "But other than that I'm fine."

"Hmm," said Alfred, in obvious disbelief, but Bruce could tell he was going to let it go. His old friend finished securing the bandage. "Well, that's you fixed. Whatever's bugging you, I hope you get over it soon. You can't expect to go back to being Batman if you can't even adjust the fire without burning yourself." He mocked cheerfully.

Bruce was about to retort when the phone rang. He picked it up with his good hand. "Hello?"

"We've caught the Joker."

Bruce sat up straight. "Gordon?"

"Who else? We have the Joker and one of his men, and apparently there's a bomb set up in one of the hospitals again."

"Have they all been evacuated?"

"There isn't enough time. He didn't say when it was going off, but he made it clear it won't be long. I think it'll be half an hour, tops."

"Who said this, the Joker or the other one?"

"The other one. He seems to know what he's talking about, though. Will you come? I know what I said, but there isn't much time."

Bruce was already on his feet. "I'll come."

Batman arrived to find the "other one" attempting to strangle one of the guards, with another three holding him down. The Joker was sat in the corner watching, looking amused.

"Hi," he said to Batman.

Seeing them pin down the other madman and take control of the situation, Batman pulled the Joker to his feet and yanked him out of the room.

"OW. What're you doing? We'll miss all the fun. Don't you wanna help them?"

Batman ignored him and continued to drag him along the corridor.

"Where're we going?"

"In here." He answered, upon reaching a door.

"What's in here?" He asked, nearly falling over as Batman shoved him in.

Batman bolted the door. "No cameras." He turned back to face the Joker, who had recovered his balance and backed away a few steps, his hands behind his back.

"Ah. Time to get nasty, is it?" He looked delighted. Batman had no idea if it was genuine or not.

"Not unless I have to." He eyed the Joker suspiciously. "What have you got behind you?"

"No-thing.."

"Show me your hands."

He stood there unsteadily, and for a moment Batman thought he was going to faint. He looked terrible, and his voice sounded dry and strained. The Joker hesitated, then grinned in a way Batman would never forget and held out what was left of his hands. He burst out laughing at Batman's expression, and didn't stop when he approached him and seized his bloodied forearms.

"What happened?" He demanded roughly.

"Evergreen Street."

"What?"

"The hospital…bomb. It's in the basement of St. James Hospital in Evergreen Street."

Batman skipped a beat before he clicked on. "You're not lying?"

"You better hope I'm not. You have about nineteen minutes."

He shoved the Joker into a chair. "Stay here."

The doorslam and click of the lock echoed in the Joker's ears. He was alone again.

Batman's jaw steeled. "They still don't trust me?"

"They just feel they should go deactivate it themselves."

"I'd be quicker, though."

Gordon regarded him sympathetically. "Give it a little more time."

The Batman nodded slowly. "I'll go back to the Joker."

Gordon blinked at him, surprised. "Why?"

Batman didn't answer.

The Joker raised his head when he heard the door open.

"What, do you want directions? It's practically round the corner from here."

"I know. They've gone to deactivate it." He shut the door behind him.

"_They_?" He figured it out. "Aw. They still don't trust you. They're using you worse than ever; you know that, don't you? Oh well, don't take it too hard. I'm planning to take care of that." He was disappointed when that didn't get a reaction. He watched the Batman hunt through the cupboards and take out a first aid kit, and his voice changed to one leaden with contempt. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you." He said, without turning round. He filled a bowl of water. "You'll need more than what I can do for you, though. Probably skin grafts."

"You're too kind." He drawled. He watched the Batman, a little irritated. He didn't want to be helped _again_. Still, there wasn't a lot he could do about it. His hands hurt like hell and he ached all over, but more than anything he was still thirsty.

Batman sat across from the Joker and pulled his wrists into the water. "What happened?"

The Joker stared at the water, almost trance-like, until it turned red. "Handcuffs are tight." He commented randomly.

Batman skipped a beat before he understood. "You pulled off a pair of handcuffs?" He studied the torn skin doubtfully. "That's..." _Impossible. Moronic._

The Joker understood him. "No, it isn't, not if they're not tight. Not _too_ tight." He raised his hands and waggled them, laughing.

Batman shoved them back in the water and tentatively felt his wrists. "That was a fucking stupid thing to do. You could have broken your wrists. You're damn lucky you didn't."

"What are you so angry about? Why so serious?" He laughed some more. "Anyway, I had to do _something_, Batman. I couldn't stay."

"Couldn't stay where?"

"Handcuffed to some pipes in a building by the bank. Where your stupid friends found me."

"What happened?"

"_Nothing_," He sang again, and wouldn't look at him. He caught sight of a water machine near the Batman. God, how he'd kill for a drink!

Batman, on the other hand, could feel himself losing his temper. He took a deep breath and made an effort to control it. "Who did this to you?"

The Joker laughed at that. It almost made him sound like a _victim_. How ironic. Irony was a wonderful thing; it never failed to cheer him up.

"Was it the mob?"

The Joker took no notice.

"Other criminals, friends of Dent, who?"

"Sorry, you're three guesses are _up_. All gone. Never mind. It was only one." He was getting light-headed again.

"Only one what?"

The Joker didn't seem to hear him. He was still staring at his hands in a kind of apathy. Talking _hurt_. He wished the Batman would just leave him the hell alone.

Batman gave up and removed several items from the first aid kit. "Can you move your fingers?"

"Yeah." He said, doing so. "It's not as bad as it looks." He held up his hands to show him, which weren't shaking so badly now. He watched indifferently as the Batman applied things to his hands, wincing a little but didn't complain.

"What happened?" He demanded again, when he'd finished.

"What do you care? Are you that desperate to reclaim your hero status that you'll even help me? What's wrong with you?"

"Just _tell me_ what happened."

His eyes drifted back to the water machine. "I want..I want some water." He said in a strange voice, nodding at it. "Just a little. Or I won't talk."

Batman looked at him, more than a little exasperated. Even when the Joker had suffered agonies he was no less difficult to deal with. Being thirsty was the classic reaction to shock, though, and God knew how long he'd been left in the cuffs for. Batman relented, filled a cup and slid it across to the Joker, who struggled to pick it up. A shudder went through him as the water hit his tongue, almost vomiting in shock. He shut his eyes and waited for it to pass, gripping the cup like a lifeline, terrified of dropping it.

Upon recovering, he drained the cup quickly, feeling almost high off the pleasure of hydrating himself. He slid the cup back to Batman. "One more."

Batman didn't argue. He slid the this time brimming cup back to the Joker, who gulped it greedily and forced himself to stop before it was all gone.

"Thanks." He licked his lips, feeling slightly stronger and much, much better. "You can be so charitable sometimes. Help's a dying art. Tell me, how much do you pity me?"

"I don't." He snarled.

The Joker didn't contradict him. The Batman was furious, and it made him look as though he'd never pitied anyone in his life. "Lighten up, will you, you should be happy. You got to come out and be a hero and nobody even got hurt. How's that for a deal?"

"_You're_ hurt."

"No, I mean like..Gotham's civilians and that. The people you actually _want_ to save."

Batman didn't answer him. They lapsed into silence for a moment, until the Joker laughed and started to say something.

"_Don't._ Don't wind me up."

"Okay." He said in a neutral tone, surprising Batman a little. "I don't mean it. I'm just bored. We've been here before. Everything's repeating itself, have you noticed?"

"How long have you been here for?"

"I don't know, fifteen minutes? You got here fast."

"When did you hurt yourself then?"

"About an hour ago, I guess. It feels like longer but..no, it was probably around then."

"Didn't the people here help you?"

"What, with my hands? I don't think they even noticed. They've been a little preoccupied." He laughed.

"They must have noticed. Didn't they check you weren't hiding anything?"

"Nope. Not very good, are they? They've had you running round after them for too long. They can't do anything for themselves. They couldn't even intimidate me properly, they had to get you here to do it for them, which was clearly a waste of time."

"Why did you put another bomb in a hospital?"

"_Me_? It's nothing to do with me. I don't repeat myself."

"Then how did you know where the bomb was?"

"They told me." He said nonchalantly. "You're not the only one with copycats. Anyway, forget about that. It must have been deactivated or it would have gone off by now. We'd have heard it. I've been meaning to ask, what were you planning to do before you saw my hands?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me, you're better than that."

"I'm not lying."

"Then why did you deliberately drag me into a room with no cameras?"

"I didn't, I just dragged you into the nearest room available."

The Joker looked at him.

"I didn't want to be watched."

"Why? It's never bothered you before."

"Does it matter? I just didn't."

The Joker drank the last of his water, trying to ignore the cramp in his stomach. In his desperation for water he'd forgotten about food. "Interesting. I think you've taken everything too hard. You've developed a bit of an inferiority complex vis-a-vis the Gotham-hates-me scenario. I was in therapy so long I picked up on how to psychoanalyze people."

"I'm very happy for you."

"Yeah. I'm really good at it. Better than most anyway. I actually get it right 40 per cent of the time." He laughed. "Anyway, maybe you need a vacation. Arkham's top floor rooms have a nice view."

Batman ignored that. He tried again. "What happened?"

"This again? Too hard, ask another."

"Okay, who did it?"

The Joker shook his head. "Trust you. Any but those two, okay? I'm not answering them."

"You _are_, even if we have to sit here all night."

"Hope you know some good ghost stories, then. I've got loads. Can I have some more water?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no? I'm thirsty! Just give me one more!"

"I've helped you, so help me."

"How will this help you exactly?"

"_Humor_ me then."

The Joker groaned inwardly. He still felt weak. He wasn't up to spinning some story, especially not with the Batman in interrogation mode. "It's not important. Please can I have some more water? I haven't drank all day."

"That's too bad."

The Joker rolled his eyes. What a bastard. "In that case we are going to get nowhere slowly. How do you plan to make me talk if you've nothing to bribe me with?"

Batman didn't answer him. They sat in silence for a while, the Joker clearly bored, Batman trying to mask his frustration. "How long were you locked up for?" He asked eventually.

"Mm? Oh, umm, it started at about ten, and those guys found me at say, eight, so yeah, about ten hours."

"And you'd already got out when they found you?"

"Obviously. I didn't get far, though."

Batman studied the bruises on his wrists. If the cuffs had been loose enough to pull out of, then they couldn't be the cause of them.

"Losing patience yet?" asked the Joker, and laughed. "Sit yourself in the corner and have a time out."

"For once in your life, will you just cut the crap? You can't play games forever."

Unperturbed by his anger, the Joker replied smoothly, "Yeah, just like you can't save everybody, yet we both try. Impossibilities have a hold over everybody. Make fools of us all." He glanced at the Batman. "I don't hate you," He said, in quite a different voice. "I really missed you when you stopped coming out. I don't want you to be unhappy. Shall I tell you something you'd like to hear? How about this was all a self-harm trick for your attention?"

"You're sick." He snapped. "Why would I want to hear that?"

He shrugged. "You wouldn't have to do anything."

"I doubt you'd go through _that_," he gestured at his hands, "when you could just show up at my door."

"I've already done that. The novelty's worn off."

Batman sighed inwardly. This son of a bitch drained him so much. Why was he even trying?

"You look fed up." The Joker told him. "Maybe because we've been in each other's company for over half an hour and you haven't smacked me around. That must be some kind of record, don't you think? I'm surprised you haven't at least kicked me under the table."

Batman bit back a remark about feeling like kicking him in the head. It would only encourage him. He got to his feet and walked out.

"Where're you going?"

Batman took no notice and locked him in once more.

The Joker sighed. At least now he could finally have a drink. He stood up and suddenly froze. That window wasn't unlocked, was it? No. An unlocked window on the ground floor, surely it couldn't be that easy? He stepped up to the window. Yes! Freedom! He just had to get it open with his mangled hands. Oh well. It would be nothing compared to the excruciating pain from before.

He took a deep breath, and struggled with the window, managed to thrust it up. As he thought, it hurt, but not overbearingly so. The Batman had done a pretty good job on patching him up. _Again_. He couldn't leave a thank you note this time, though, unless he planned to write it in blood. He laughed wildly, and looked out the window, saw nobody. And so, shaking his head at how ludicrously _easy_ it was, the Joker escaped.


	4. Chapter 4

Movies » Batman Begins/Dark Knight » **It's Stopped Bleeding Now**

Author: thatswhyyyoudont

1. Chapter 12. Chapter 23. Chapter 34. Chapter 45. Chapter 56. Chapter 6

Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Reviews: 144 - Published: 09-14-08 - Updated: 03-06-13

id:4538671

Batman returned to his penthouse and closed the door behind him. What was left of the light came in through the window and cast small shimmers across the sofa. This he observed with no expression, and went through to the batcave. He began to remove his suit, and numbly let his conscience attack.

_You let him get away_.

That was what it boiled down to. He'd had another chance. A chance to redeem himself, to prove his worth to Gotham, and he'd screwed up.

The thought brought with it frightening images, formidable as a nightmare yet as undeniably real as his reflection, of his future, the rest of his life, empty, meaningless, a disappoinment; the suit left to gather dust, the batmobile lying dormant, wading through work and dates and what little else there was, while things, while _Gotham_, happened around him. He was in the eye of the hurricane, and he couldn't stand it.

He once thought he would welcome the end of Batman, embrace it, but things were different then. He'd had Rachel. For so long his thoughts of Rachel had determined what he did and who he was. Also, he'd had some kind of mutual detachment with the Joker, which kept him from hating him but also kept him from obsessing over him. A perfect balance. He'd kill to have it back.

He didn't believe he would have given up Batman for anyone, even Rachel. It was for him just as much as for Gotham. What kind of life would he have created for himself? With Rachel or not, sooner or later he'd have become miserable.

At least now he knew he did not love her, at least, not in the way he thought he did. The way you feel about someone is almost always made apparent when they die. Harsh, but true. He had loved Rachel, but he was never _in_ love with her.

He stared at the suit, and thought again of the Joker, and of the lonesome, pining existence he'd suffered through ever since he took the rap for Dent's crimes.

Eight years. It felt like a lifetime.

It wasn't that bad, he supposed, could have been much worse, but still, the thought of another eight years sitting back was killing him. Especially now the Joker was loose, on the streets and in his mind. He was glad when it was time for the party. Maybe this one would be different, and take his mind off things.

Only it didn't work out that way, as usual.

"Another drink, sir?"

"Mm? Oh, no. No, thank you."

The waiter nodded dutifully and left him be. Not Alfred. It was one of those he'd hired. He didn't know where Alfred was.

_Bored of your own party_, he mused cynically.

At first he'd berated himself for preferring circumstances that required him to save people rather than mingle with them, but he'd given up on that a little while ago. He was only himself, not some humanity-lacking icon everyone perceived him and the Joker to be.

A girl he didn't know asked him to dance. Politely, he declined.

He looked around him and wondered if what he was doing was cowardly. He wasn't enjoying himself. Almost everything he had done in the past few months was simply keeping up appearances. Why did he bother? After all, the Joker didn't cover his scars and force himself to partake in normality. But then, the Joker was insane. That made a difference, didn't it? It must do.

Another waiter offered him a drink, and this time he accepted. If distractions wouldn't work, he was still in the process of convincing himself that he didn't think about the Joker as often as he did, then maybe drunkenness would.

He wasn't drunk when he answered the phone, for which he was profoundly grateful, or, if he was, he sobered up in record timing. Gordon. Gordon with news of the Joker. Gordon with another chance. He had never mentioned the death of the cop, and Batman couldn't bring himself to tell him the truth. Soon, but not now.

"Six of them are dead, but the Joker's still there, with the money. I could send in my own men, but you seem used to handling him, and there's something you should know first- "

"Okay," he interrupted. He'd heard all he needed to. "I'll go. I won't let you down again." He hung up.

He felt better. He didn't even realize it until he got in the batmobile, but he was. He quickly brushed it aside though. It was time to brush everything aside.

When he saw the Joker, he knew at once something was wrong. He just knew. It was like when he had been stabbed, or when his hands were mutilated. He was hurt or upset in some way.

The Joker saw him, and flickered from surprise, to fear, and anger. "Well, there's hope for you yet," he remarked dryly. His tone wasn't too cutting, but his eyes were dark.

"You said you wouldn't kill anyone."

"That was ages ago!" He snarled. Then he seemed to regain some control of himself. He went on in an insinuating tone, "Did I get you in trouble? At least you got eight years off, now you have another guaranteed, maybe a decade this time. Did you enjoy them?"

"What are you so angry about?"

"I'm not."

He was, though.

"I'm not," he repeated, more confidently. He wasn't going to tell him, not for anything. He tapped his bandaged fingers on a broken off piece of pipe. "Why have you come? They're already dead, and I'm not going to Arkham, you know that. Is it the money? You can take it back to them. I don't care."

Batman looked at him. "What's wrong with you now?"

"What?"

"It was your hands last time, and you were stabbed before that- "

He laughed at that. He forced himself to. It was a horrible, jagged sound. "Is _that_ why you're here, then? To check up on me?"

"Don't be stupid. It's your own damn fault if you can't look after yourself."

"Oh, I can, though," he suddenly gripped the broken pipe and swung it at him. "Better than you can, anyway."

Batman caught it and fought to restrain the Joker.

The Joker hit out at him again. He was beginning to crack, and he knew it. The past few months had been bad. He'd suffered more than sore hands. It wasn't _his_ fault, not really. He was only reacting to what had happened. If you were hit, you hit back, and if someone got in the way,_they_ got hit.

He smacked Batman's head into the wall. "When are you going to accept that this is _it_, this is as good as it gets for us."

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

"_Sure_, you, don't."

He reversed their positions so the Joker was slammed into the wall, yet he went on mercilessly, "I just can't understand why, they, don't, _love,_you, I mean, you do exactly what they say, you spend half the time saving their ass and the other pretending to be like them, what more could- "

Batman hit him, and shoved him away in disgust. He had saved the bastard's life twice now, and this was how he repaid him. He suddenly didn't care if he hurt him. "You're crazy."

For a moment, the Joker closed his eyes. If there's one thing they were both good at, it was hitting where it hurt. He kept his eyes closed and breathing suddenly became hard, the fear bubbling up like some black and ugly serpent, nightmares coming back, himself in some asylum, _really _going off at the deep end, giving up, forgetting everything (so much terror and bliss in that one!), being locked up screaming and eating his own shit and everything everyone had said would turn out to be true, because what was the point in escape if they would just put you right back in there? What was the point? They said he was crazy and they said he would die alone crazy and now even Batman thought he was crazy, the only person in the world he came close to giving a damn about.

Pathetic. He felt pathetic. It wasn't just the past few months but his whole life, and it was his own fault, his own weakness. _He did it to himself_. He was suddenly overcome with such fear and self-loathing he couldn't stand it. He broke beneath it.

He opened his eyes, and hit the Batman as hard as he could. He had barely hit the ground when the Joker was on him, the strikes landing on his temples, near his eyes, across his jaw, again, again and again, until Batman was sure that this was it, the Joker wasn't playing at it anymore, he really meant to go on beating and obliterating him until he died. The Joker felt something warm and trickling on his fists. Batman tasted it in his mouth.

Suddenly, somewhere above him, the Joker stopped.

Kneeling over him in a grotesque parody of Batman's fantasies, the Joker closed his eyes and sucked in the air around him. His thoughts crowded against one another, threatened to overwhelm him. Fear grappled him down to his core, and amongst it he felt, for the first time in years, something close to regret. He swallowed it back and opened his eyes, forced himself to look at what he'd done. He swallowed again and spoke, sounding much less shaken than he felt, clearly, "I'm not crazy."

Batman didn't argue.

The Joker got off him.

Batman sat up slowly, and wiped the blood from his face. He tested his jaw cautiously. "What the hell was that for?"

"Shut up," he said, without venom. He surprised even himself at how calm he sounded.

Batman watched him warily, and noticed that the blood on both of them was not just his own; the Joker's hands were bleeding through the bandages.

The Joker closed his eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt him that badly. "It's your own fault," he said. It was another way of saying, 'hit me' and at first it seemed to work, Batman reacted exactly as he expected him to; he slammed him into the wall and pulled his fist back. The movement was mechanical, reflexive.

The Joker kept his eyes closed in a kind of awful combination of dread and relief, and waited. He waited for a long time.

The Batman had frozen. He knew he should do it, kill him or knock him out at the very least, not just for his own savage beating but for Rachel, for Dent. But there was only so much he could do for Gotham, and now, he couldn't do it. He stared at the Joker and he couldn't do it. He lowered his fist. He told himself to let go, leave, to have someone come for the bodies and have the money taken back to where it belonged and leave. He'd be all right. They both would. He told himself he had to do what was right. Instead, he kissed him.

The approaching noise behind them startled the Batman back to reality. The Joker was looking at him, stunned, and for a moment neither of them spoke. His head was throbbing. He made no move to stop the Joker when he stood, but just then the door was slammed open and they were surrounded, the Joker's arms clamped to his sides. Batman decided he wouldn't fight them either. It occurred to him to wipe his face, and he did so, but it may have been too late. For some reason, they weren't touching him. He opened his eyes to find out why and met the Joker's, who was watching him sardonically.

"Well done, Batman. Really. I must say, I didn't see that one comin'. A little low, but very clever."

They hauled him off before he could say anymore, and he let himself be dragged in silence, no screeches of laughter, no insults.

A heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, but then it was removed.

It all became clear when he left. When that many people gathered in the square to see the news, it was never good. So he stayed and watched. At first, he didn't understand. It was Dent's voice, just audio recordings of Dent. Then he realized. It had been recorded without Dent's knowing. It exposed him. And it cleared his name. He stood there and watched, stunned, until someone saw him and yelled. It was disconcerting, having all those eyes turn on him in unison, in silence. But then applause broke out. He had been forgiven; he was Gotham's again. It was only when he got into bed that the answer occurred to him; the Joker.

Bruce pieced it all together the next day. The Joker had anticipated Batman's move to save Dent's name by destroying his own. He'd secured proof of it, hidden it, and it had remained hidden in the eight years he had been locked away. Whether he'd still intended to hurt people with the revelation was another thing. Maybe he'd only wanted the Batman back, for his own amusement. The citizens were appalled, shocked, horrified, hurt but not broken. In eight years they had recovered Gotham and themselves. They had survived eight years without Dent and they were strong. So they were disappointed, bitter. But not destroyed. Perhaps it made their faith in each other and the city stronger. Perhaps they could all live happily ever after.

For Bruce, it wasn't that easy. The Joker was angry with him; he may not be likely to escape again, but he could talk. And if he was lucky, someone might listen.

He still had to tell Alfred what happened; he needed to talk to someone. And when the dust settled, he needed to think about what had happened before it all came out. And regardless of whether he did those things or not, he had to pay the Joker a visit; it was the one confrontation he couldn't avoid.

He went the day his bruises had healed, on pretense of considering funding the asylum. He said he'd like to talk to the inmates. They were wary, especially of his adamancy to see the Joker, but not suspicious, and within the hour he was sat across from the madman. A guard was within earshot. Bruce expected his feelings to become clear the minute he saw the other man, but they were still a whirl of anger and fight and fear.

"They let you keep your make up," he commented, taking in his freshly made smile.

"They're very pleased with me for revealing the truth and restoring justice, or something. Getting them their hero back," he harped. "Though they're annoyed I kept it to myself for a while. Still. End result that counts, huh?"

He seemed strangely subdued. Bruce wondered if he'd been sedated. He said what he'd come to say;

"What I did wasn't a trick," he said carefully. The Joker looked like he was trying not to laugh, and it relieved Bruce a little. He probably wasn't going to lose it again. "I didn't know they were coming."

The Joker rolled his eyes and snickered again softly. "Why don't you just cut the crap? You're not here to thank me or say sorry. You're here to tell me not to tell." He smiled lazily, pleased with himself.

Bruce smiled himself. "Good to know you don't know everything."

The Joker merely raised his eyebrows, unfazed.

Bruce continued, "There's nothing I can threaten or bribe you with. If you tell, you tell, and I'll just have to hope they won't believe you."

"Boring!" The Joker recovered some energy in his disappointment. "I thought you'd be panicking. I should have known better."

Bruce shrugged and opened his mouth, but the Joker wasn't finished.

"I don't know if there's a camera in here."

Bruce frowned. "I don't think so."

"I don't want to talk about any of that now, anyway," he said dismissively. "I want to talk about the others. There are worse people than me out there, and you're going to have to deal with them. You shouldn't have let them take me. I knew things."

He was starting to sound agitated. Bruce asked calmly, "Tell me what you know."

"I might. If I need to. I don't want to talk about things now. They've got me on so much and I'm not so clear in my head."

Bruce doubted the Joker was ever clear in his head, but didn't argue. He wasn't concerned about this new threat, either. "You'll be safe here," he told him.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said with dark humor. "But you should have left me free. You're going to need all the help you can get."

"You'd help, would you?" he said skeptically.

"More than I'd hinder."

A buzzer went off, telling him his time was up. "I'll come back if I need to know anything," he said, standing to go.

"Don't bother," the Joker said curtly. "I won't be here long. _I'll _come see _you _when I'm feeling myself again. When we can talk properly, about everything." He grinned wickedly.

Bruce wasn't amused, but was glad he'd got off this visit so lightly. He left with no clearer insight to his actions than he'd arrived with.

The Joker stayed where he was, running the conversation over in his head. He felt cheated; he wanted to tease the Batman, oh he was dizzy with delight with all he had to say to the Batman, but he couldn't think. He didn't know what the hell they had him on, but he didn't see why they didn't just give him a lobotomy and have done with it. Where lobotomies still legal? Probably not. Maybe they were just under a different name. Prozac.

They'd be coming for him. And even if they didn't, the staff wouldn't be on top of things amidst all the chaos. It would be easy to slip a key into his pocket, get his hands on different clothes and waltz free, easy as in a cartoon. And then…well, as a rule he didn't make plans. An unrule. But he thought he would dance between the plans of his new enemy and his old one, poor Brucey-Batman, who was clearly losing his mind. The Joker hoped he wouldn't find it before he got free again; it would spoil the fun.


	5. Chapter 5

"Again?" Alfred said, in disbelief. Tensions had been rising between himself and Alfred, but as much as he cared for the other man he couldn't address them, not now. "You know what Lucius said about the money."

"I know, but Arkham don't, not yet."

Bruce continued to knot his tie with perfect calm, while Alfred just watched him and waited. Eventually, he sighed, and turned.

"I'm going to see the Joker," he admitted.

The older man skipped a beat. "As - yourself?"

"Why not, when he already knows? I think I can get something out of him this time."

"Master Wayne…" He looked unsettled, and it pained Bruce to see it. He knew what was coming and he wished he could take that look away, the one he'd been getting from Alfred for a number of weeks now, but it wasn't the time.

"Just trust me, Alfred. OK?" That was usually enough to fix things. As he left, he tried to shake off the feeling that this was the one time it hadn't worked.

"Excuse me," the timid voice came again. More knocks. The Joker ignored them; he was fresh out of the shower and hadn't finished applying his make-up. Eventually, the nurse cleared his throat and squeaked, "You have a visitor."

The Joker's still sore hand froze over the ring of black around his eye. Ah. That was worth disturbing him for. He had thought it was unusually early for meds. Looking himself over in the mirror, he resumed steadily, making sure he was covered. "Coming." He capped the lid back on the eye pencil and turned to unlock the door. The nurse was too young and too wet-behind-the-ears looking to be left alone with a registered psychopath, and his relief was evident when the Joker willingly held out his wrists for handcuffs. He may be a rampaging psycho on the outside, but he tended to behave himself on the in. It made people put their guards down, for one, and also gave him the privileges of make up and locks.

"How exciting," the Joker said drolly, eying the door. The nurse glanced at him worriedly. "The visitor," he clarified helpfully. "Not you." But the man was already backing off. When he had gone, the Joker sat on his bed facing the steel door to wait. He rested his bandaged hands in his lap, forcing them calm. Early in the morning, before medication. It was either a coincidence or someone who knew what they were doing. If it were who he suspected, probably the latter. In the rusty, rational side of his brain, he supposed he should be scared; it could be someone else.

He hoped the relief didn't show when Bruce Wayne entered unescorted through the steel door. Doors that opened outwards, so no-one could barricade themselves in, that blades couldn't cut through, that you probably couldn't hear sounds through. The Joker wasn't sure about that one; after all, he'd been very good in his time here. He waited until it was shut tight behind Bruce, and greeted cheerfully, "Batman!"

"Bruce," Batman corrected mildly, but he didn't seem very concerned. He disappeared into the corner for a moment and re-emerged from the dark with a chair, those uncomfortable, boxy things that were all the hospital ever seemed to order, seating himself calmly before the Joker as if he owned the place. If what the Joker overheard from the manager's office was true, he soon would. He played dumb.

"Second visit in a month. Won't they be wondering about that?"

"I doubt it." Only two members of staff knew Bruce was here, and both had enough of his dwindling money in their pockets to not wonder about anything for a while. "I need you to tell me what you wouldn't last time. What you know about the storm that's coming."

The Joker's smile faded. "Poetic." He knew whose words they were. It was starting already. "And here I was thinking you might miss me."

Bruce didn't rise to the bait. "Does the name Selina Kyle mean anything to you?"

"She's not the one to worry about."

"Then who is?"

The Joker stared back at Bruce, mimicking his calm. "You're not in your suit and you have seven minutes left. Do your worst."

"Actually, I have an extended visit today," he said mildly, and got to his feet.

The Joker smiled sarcastically; there was no such thing, it was goodboy-speak for interrogation. Of course he had. Bruce was full of surprises.

"Officially, I'm not even here. And you know I'm not completely dependent on the suit."

"Officially," the Joker murmured, impressed. "But you won't hurt me."

A hand to his throat pushed him down forcefully, pinning him onto the bed, and the other slammed his cuffed wrists above his head. He did it almost without losing his casual expression, and it impressed the Joker all the more. It was unexpected, but not harsh. In return, he played along. "I don't actually know his plans."

"Let's start with who he is."

"It's a good thing you don't have your suit on. I'd be convinced you were a copycat and bite your fingers off." Couldn't hurt to remind the Batman what he was dealing with, that he wasn't just an eccentric madman. But Bruce had an almost sociopathic look in his eye himself. There was something subtly different about him, a menace-like quality to his eyes that suggested something had disturbed him.

"Listen," he said quickly, when Bruce raised his fist, bringing him back to reality. "He is expecting me to tell you. He is expecting you to go to him." Even with his fist ready to strike, Bruce looked like he was just going through the motions. He hadn't come to hurt him.

"So let's give him what he wants."

"You don't understand," the Joker growled. "Even if you're prepared, even if you somehow have the element of surprise, he will beat you. Excluding your games with me, you're eight years out of practice. Let the cops die for him, for now. When the time comes, the city will need you here."

"I thought I was eight years out of practice," Bruce said dryly.

"Where you trained by the League of Shadows?"

He frowned.

"I thought so. Listen. He's not going to bomb us in our beds. He's going to drag it out. Gotham will have a chance if you're here to fight for it, if you don't go to him now. He's a man with a plan, and we both know that men with plans can be stopped. If you don't go along with them."

Bruce arched his eyebrows and sat on the Joker's bed without releasing him, still impossibly calm. He may have rehearsed this. "So now you know how it feels, huh? To be terrorized."

The Joker laughed, and meant it. "I'm not saying this for my benefit, Bruce," he said, which wasn't quite true. "I'll enjoy what's coming far more than you. The only bone I'm throwing you is, do not go to him."

"You're telling me to do nothing."

"I'm telling you…to sit tight. You can fight for this city soon. If you go after him now, you'll just watch it burn."

"Maybe I'll stand a better chance if you tell me everything."

The Joker stretched uncomfortably beneath him, drawing Bruce's attention to their current position. "Going to fuck it out of me, are you?"

Bruce was unperturbed. "I'll deal with that when this is over."

"Deal with it?" He cackled with laughter.

There was a little twitch in his calm, like he wanted to throw the Joker into the wall. Instead, he waited for the Joker to stop laughing, and then kissed him. The hands on his throat and wrists had softened, and the kiss was without violence. The Batman seemed to have figured that tantrums just amused his enemy. He was going to kill the Joker with kindness, and it might even work. It wasn't fair. Bruce lowered the hand on his throat and eased it under his collar, other hand still holding his cuffs. His lips left his mouth to kiss his throat.

"I can't believe you're doing this," the Joker said after a minute. He could hear the strain in his voice and wanted to laugh, but he knew the other man would see through it. "It won't get you anywhere."

The Joker pushed at the pressure on his wrists experimentally, wincing at the pain. Bruce wouldn't lower himself to doing anything below the waist with a lunatic, a murderous lunatic, in the asylum he was supposed to be funding. Or would he? He was so deliciously unpredictable. The Joker let out a little giggle. "You're too much, Bruce. Really."

Bruce let go of the cuffs, giving him his chance to fight.

Sighing, the Joker leaned back and held his arms out of the way, not letting them drop around Bruce's neck. "You're complicating things unnecessarily, Batman," he said mockingly, but his heart was hammering and he doubted he was fooling him. It had been so long that he started getting hard the moment Bruce pushed him down and started looking at him in that way, and he was throbbing now. It couldn't go on for much longer; Bruce didn't have it in him to get nasty, to really push him.

The Joker would look back at this moment and wish he had made the most of it. Wonder at his own self-restraint. What was he wary of? The fact that Bruce wasn't himself, and for the first time in his life as the Joker, he didn't want to take advantage of someone's state of mind?

Bruce moved his hand back to his throat and kissed him again, languidly, and then the Joker did let his wrists drop to the other man's shoulders, if only because his arms were hurting. He was losing. He didn't know what exactly, but he knew he was losing. He was still mad at the Batman for putting him back in here, and he was being messed with in a way he'd never expected. It was cheating.

"I can't do this," Bruce said lowly into the Joker's mouth, pressed against his forehead. "If you're involved with what's going to happen."

For a second, the Joker didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "What about what's already happened?"

"But this will be worse, won't it?"

When it became clear that the Joker wasn't going to reply, Bruce ducked free of his arms and stepped back. The Joker was disappointed. Bruce's eyes had become vague, distant; in his head, he was already back to plotting to how to get to Bane, the Joker knew. Selina Kyle would oblige, and Bruce had probably figured that much out. He licked his lips absently, chasing the taste Bruce had left behind. He was both disappointed and relieved when he saw the chair returned to its corner. He sat up.

"Is that it?"

Discreetly, Bruce found a mirror and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the make-up. He wondered if the Joker would have said something had he forgotten. "If that's all you have to say."

"Wait."

He stepped back into the light and looked at the Joker expectantly, but the Joker wasn't considering telling him more. He tried to think of how he could convince him, could tell by the look on the other man's face that he couldn't.

"Just wait," he said again, without energy. "Don't go after him."

Bruce lingered, giving him another moment, before realizing that that was all he was going to get. He got back to his car feeling vaguely disturbed; he was losing his money and Alfred and he was still hard in his pants, and it was almost like he was losing his mind along with everything else. He wanted to deal with the Joker, just the Joker, but his instincts were as good as ever after eight years, and he knew this Bane was something that couldn't be left. He could still taste the Joker's make-up on his lips.

This time, the Joker's escape wasn't due to his own genius; with the Batman back, he didn't expect things to be so easy. But the Batman would be pre-occupied, doubtless going against his advice and hunting down Bane, and the Joker wanted out before it all started. Just in case Arkham wasn't liberated. Still, the escape was as much his own luck and accident as design, which was why he never made a plan. The Batman had told him he would be safe here, and maybe by some chance he would be. For once, it would be nice to be safe. But Bruce wouldn't be safe. He would be losing control, and not in a good way.

The Joker kept his word and called on Batman, but of course he wasn't there; he broke in to make sure. They hadn't grabbed his possessions yet, but they had turned his power off. Oh well. He could hide out here for a while and try to pretend that Bruce wasn't rotting in a cave in Africa. He should have tried harder to persuade him not to go. Should have told him more. He called Gordon, anonymously. He called people he knew underground. Called Crane. Called Selina Kyle's friends, who confirmed the worst. Well. He had kept the Batman's silence for nothing. The Batman would be broken, and Gotham would follow. He could go to Africa, but there wouldn't be anything left worth saving. And anyway, he would never have the balls. Oh well. He had lived without the Batman before, so he could do it again. He would just have to toughen up and ride the wave.

"I thought you would be on board with this." Batman had actually thought the Joker must be dead. He hadn't seen him once on the monitor, in all the chaos, and the man was somehow involved with Bane; he thought it was inevitable. But the Joker was alive and well and staring at him.

"Where have you been?"

"Africa."

The Joker nodded, like he'd been expecting this. "But you're in one piece."

"So are you. And the city." Bruce paused. "Aren't you going to say I told you so?" He sounded harsh, darkly amused. "You could have told me more."

"I didn't know this was coming," he gestured to the city vaguely.

"You're afraid of him."

"Not as much as I was. He's human. You'll see."

"Are you working with him?"

"Not exactly. He's not happy that I exposed Dent when he wanted to do it, not at all. Did you hear his little speech? It shed a different light on things. But I guess the shock was cushioned a little. I don't think he's so concerned with me now. Or your girlfriend. We're both off the hook while he has bigger fish to fry."

Bruce knew he was being baited, said easily enough, "She's not my girlfriend."

The Joker shrugged carelessly. "I have to go."

"How long were you there for?" He sounded hard as he put this question forward, and the Joker turned back to him questioningly.

"Where?"

"You know where. You know Bane. There are no records of you anywhere."

The Joker smiled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't."

"Why don't you stay with me until he's caught?"

That came out of the blue. If the city wasn't falling apart, he'd think it were a trap. He wondered at Bruce's state of mind.

Bruce himself was wondering at it. He was stronger, but he still had his moments.

"Do you have somewhere safe to stay?"

"I'm not leading them to you."

That unnerved him a little. He shrugged, and didn't press his point. "You know where I am."


	6. Chapter 6

Batman blinked. He'd been seconds from being torn apart by Bane, and the next thing he knew the man was slumped on the ground. He looked past him to a purple clad leg, and followed it up to find the Joker. He flinched inwardly. It was a little hard to not feel like he'd stepped from the frying pan and into the fire. The Joker was leaning nonchalantly against the warehouse wall and watching the Batman. And he didn't look remotely manic, for once. He smirked.

"I've got your back, Batman, he said lightly. He kicked at Bane's prone form to illustrate his point.

"Thanks," Batman said slowly. He sat up properly. Was Bane dead? No, he could make out his breathing. Still. The sound of whatever the Joker had hit him with had sounded like metal dropping from a rooftop.

The Joker stepped over him then, coming towards the Batman slowly. He extended a hand down to help him, smirking in a mockery of courtesy. A hand that was looking a lot better since Bruce had last tended to it. He raised his eyebrows and waggled his fingers impatiently.

Hesitatingly, Batman took it, and was helped to his feet. Almost within the same motion, without warning, he was thrown into the nearest wall.

"I've never been one for looking back," the Joker's conversational tone came over his now ringing ears. "But if there's one thing I learnt from all those fucking doctors, it's that there are some things you just..gotta..let..go..of," he said slowly. He approached the Batman, who whirled around in response, ready for him. The Joker stopped, studying him. Waiting for an initiation of fight. When none came, he licked his lips.

"You left me there," he enunciated carefully. "For eight years."

Batman looked at him incredulously. "Did you really expect anything else?"

The Joker smiled. "No, of course not. Not at first. But when you prove I'm not delusional by doing something like, oh, I don't know, saving me instead of a civilian and _kissing_ me, that changes things a little."

The Batman couldn't quite meet his eyes, and the Joker found himself smirking in spiteful satisfaction. He'd wanted to collar Batman, but there was no need now; he was starting to feel better already. He continued mercilessly.

"When you have to tell yourself that something doesn't matter..it's those little things that define you. Believe me. And eaving me there was bad enough, by the way, but then putting me back..that was low. You're better than that. And it was pointless. You'll never forget about me."

"I know that," he snapped. He hated it, but he had to admit to himself that he and the Joker understood each other. He understood the importance of fear. "Gotham will always come before you. And anything I want."

The Joker opened his mouth.

"That cop was an error of judgement," he snarled, before he could interject. "When I know what I'm doing, Gotham comes first."

"I'm not even gonna dignify that with laughter," the Joker sneered.

"I'll cry myself to sleep tonight over that," he muttered. He got to his feet, half expecting the Joker to lunge at him, but he didn't move, watching him through half narrowed eyes.

The Batman's temples were throbbing, and he gave himself a moment for the world to go still. Despite himself, a small part within him was a little tempted to kiss him again. Because wasn't that all the Joker wanted? Acknowledgement of weaknesses? He couldn't help himself. Before his head cleared, he hauled the Joker to him and did it.

"This again," the Joker snarled, when they broke apart after a moment, but he wasn't struggling. He'd had more than enough time to react, and he hadn't dodged. His patronising smirk looked a little fake, but otherwise his expression was unreadable. "Haven't you got bigger things to be worried about?"

Batman kissed him again, pushing him against the wall. He bit his lip and dragged it into his mouth. His hand came up to smear the Joker's make-up in a rough parody of a caress, pressing his thumb across his right scar. When he pulled back to inspect his handiwork, he saw he hadn't come any close to revealing the Joker's skin. He had just made it worse, a messed blend of colour rather than pattern. The Joker's eyes were still unreadable and, strangely, he wasn't laughing.

Batman pressed into him. "Come home with me."

The Joker's eyes widened just a fraction. "What's wrong with here?"

He shook his head. "Stay with me. Until this is over."

Something dark shifted in his expression. "Really. All this just for an ally?"

"Don't be stupid. It doesn't suit you." He kissed him again, and finally felt the Joker giving into it. He was breathing hard and hot, and part of him wanted to do this here, in a dark alleyway just like he'd always fantasised. But only a small part of him. Most of him wanted to make this count.

This wasn't a game anymore. If the Joker were sane, it would have unnerved him a little. His thumb brushed the Batman's jaw in a gentle mimicry of how he'd just been touched, following the edge of the mask. Batman caught hold of him to stop him when he tried to slip his fingers under.

"If you want that, we have to go."

The Joker just gave him a look.

They were interrupted by a grunt from behind them just then, causing the Batman to startle backwards.

Aside from his eyes also falling to the man on the floor, the Joker didn't move.

"If you insist."

His nerves built up and up inside of him as he drove them to his home. And when he had locked the door and turned back to find the Joker leaning against his unit and fucking smirking at him, looking completely unbothered and mildly amused, it infuriated him. He slammed their bodies together and worked a thigh between his legs, winding a hand into his hair, kissing him. The Joker pulled back only to tear his mask off, and let himself be half-dragged up the stairs.

His make up gradually deteriorated. It resembled no form of a clown now, just equal blends of red, white and black, and it was everywhere; on the pillows, the sheets, the wall, Bruce's suit, his body. Shedding clothes seemed to take too long. He tugged at the Joker's hair, running his fingers through that ridiculous dye, gripping when it got too much and pulling with his fists. The Joker growled, and pumped his cock in reward. Batman pressed into him in response, weighing him down.

Even when they were done, the need was still there. He clenched the Joker to himself almost painfully hard and buried his face in his throat. The Joker let him, passive in the afterglow.

Feeling he had nothing to lose, he questioned the Joker on his theory before they slept. "You wanted me to admit my weaknesses, right? That was what you wanted all along."

"I never said weaknesses."

The Joker wondered if he could get used to this. Sleeping with Bruce, Batman, in a house that somehow felt empty. That was being a little hasty, though. What with everything that was going on, he doubted he'd have to get used to anything anytime soon.

Beside him, Bruce muttered in his sleep louder and more distressed-sounding until eventually the Joker shook him out of it. He started, coming to confusedly.

"You were moaning," the Joker explained.

"I was dreaming you were dead," he mumbled.

"Me?" the Joker said, but Bruce was already drifting back to sleep.

* * *

I'd just like to apologise for my long, long breaks between updates. I just struggle with this fandom so much compared to when I first started writing it. But I was reading some amazing B/J fics on here and AOOO last night for inspiration, and I'm inspired. If this is half as good as any of them, I'm happy, and I hope readers are. Also, I haven't seen TDKR for a long time so if you could ignore any continuity errors, that'd be great :) And finally, if anyone's interested in doing a spot of beta-ing, PM me. I'm out of touch with this fandom and not happy with chapter 5. So.

Also, I've just noticed this chapter is quite short, so I may add to it in my next update rather than adding a new chapter, just to clarify :)

Thanks so much for reading and for reviews and favourites!


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